


Overalls and a Top Hat

by Blankdice



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Character Study, F/F, Fluff, GERBLINS, featuring diamonds and self doubt and mining metaphors, i refuse to apologise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 13:22:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13858626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blankdice/pseuds/Blankdice
Summary: The bubble around Refuge is gone, and the town decides they need a mayor. Cassidy doesn't really care either way, but she cares about Refuge.-----Cassidy shuffled her feet, listened to the footsteps until Ren had come up from the basement, head peeking out from the door curiously, her white hair clipped back, out of her eyes.“Hey there, Cassie,” she went.“Ren, what does a mayor wear?”“I'm sorry?” she said. She was wearing her apron, with simple leggings underneath instead of her usual skirts. She wiped her hands clean of dust as she spoke, leaving red smudges on the apron. “Is this a hypothetical question, or is there a reason you're asking me?”





	Overalls and a Top Hat

The day after the election, Cassidy started to worry. 

She wasn't usually one for worrying. She was paranoid, sure, and distrustful, and full of worst case scenarios, but she didn't tend to worry. The world was a weird, dangerous place, full of monsters and explosions, but that wasn't worrying, that was fact. She knew where to look for faultlines and what to do about them and she always triple checked her fuses.

She hadn't put herself up as a candidate. For years, she'd been too busy clearing rubble and carving, slowly but surely, the shape of the new Refuge. A town can't be shaped with dynamite, not without doing the kind of damage they'd all lived through more times she could count. 

Cassidy never thought she'd say this, or even think it, but she'd had enough explosions for a good while.

Two days after the bubble had gone down, they first came up with the idea of an election. 

“Why do we need elections?” Cassidy said. “We been fine for seven years.”

“We've been in a bubble for seven years,” Redmond said, hands around his drink. “That's gone now, and the world is going to come find us whether we like it or not. We should have someone in charge, when they do.”

“I agree,” said his brother, nursing a similar mug of stonefruit cider. Cassidy wasn't sure if priests were supposed to drink, but she supposed it was none of her business.

“Not it, by the way,” Redmond mumbled.

“You would be good at it,” said Paloma.

Cassidy was quiet, hooked her thumbs through the straps of her overalls. She reckoned the important folk were talking, and what did she know about mayoring? She was a miner, she knew geology and explosions and, lately, a little bit of community service. It'd been seven years but she still thought of it as “lately”. 

It was hard, even after seven years, to think about the big explosion as something other than immediate, something other than recent. The memory was somehow bigger than everything else, maybe because they'd all lived it so often. It was hard to think of herself as anything other than a prospector, even though she only picked up the pickaxe in her free hours these days. 

On the edge of the table, Roswell piped up, high pitched and underscored by the flutter of feathers. They were the only one without a drink at the table. “Now, hold on a second,” they said, “we can't just appoint a mayor right here. It's just the six of us, that wouldn't be fair to the rest of the town.”

“But we agree it's a good idea, in concept?” Redmond asked. He looked around the table, eyes landing on each of the six in turn. He would be a good leader, Cassidy thought sourly. He had the authority. He was also clever enough to refuse. She'd had a glance into the daily business of running a town and it sure wasn't easy.

“Ren?” Redmond said. “You haven't said anything yet.”

Ren paused in the middle of getting up, pushing off from the table to fetch them all a new round. The Davy Lamp was closed, but it was still her bar. “Well, sure,” she said, “we've been pretty informal around here, and we can't keep going like that.”

“I don't rightly know why we can't,” Cassidy said. She unhooked her thumbs, checked her mug again just in case. It was still just as empty. “But sure, if y'all think it's a good idea.”

“Alright,” Luca said, head nodding, eyes glinting with the spark of a plan, “Alright, let's hold an election.”

As soon as he said it, they all knew that's how it was going to be. It would be fair, and everyone would have a say. Refuge was might be small, but every single one of its citizens wanted to be heard. That was alright by Cassidy; she was a little bit deaf and that made it easier to ignore them when she wanted to.

She didn't pay much mind to the whole thing after that. The decision had been made and there were more qualified people than her who'd take care of it. Redmond, for example. He might’ve opted out of being a mayor but he sure could organise the election. While the preparations were being made, she pulled some sleeves and got people to dig up the old maps. Refuge used to have good connections, a decade ago, before the diamond trade dried up. On the day of the election, she spent some time with a shovel on the stonefruit farm, on the parts that the bubble had cut off. They'd gone completely wild, but Errol had plotted out the original orchards and now it was a matter of taming them back into producing fruit.

She returned to the town square in time to cast her vote, of course, stopping by the general store on her way to check on the repairs. She voted for Luca, because she reckoned priests were good at this whole leading people thing and anyway, Redmond had already declined and Ren had her bar and Isaak, well. Isaak was difficult.

Cassidy went up to the town square and she cast her vote and then she went over to Ren, who'd set up a table by the side, by the bonfire. 

Ren smiled and passed her a free drink and then ran off to chase a few teens away from the fire before they could hurt themselves, so Cassidy leaned on the makeshift bar and mooched drinks as the sky grew dark and the square grew full.

It was a good night, clear and cooling down but still smelling of the day's dust and hot earth. Above the bonfire, a band of stars glittered between the shadows of the cliffs on either side of the gulch. Now and then, when the flames roared a little higher, the light glinted off the clock in the clock tower, and the people whooped, raised their mugs.

They were all here, the citizens of Refuge, barring maybe two or three. They were gathered around the fire, by Ren’s table of booze, occasionally darting off to the big box in front of the clock tower where Redmond stood and checked off names. 

Finally, he banged his fist on the side of the box and hollered across the square. Cassidy hung back because honestly, it was all the same to her, which was why she didn't quite hear what he said but there was a mighty whooping and she found herself pushed to the front of the crowd, right by the box.

Redmond shook her hand and gave that little smile with an edge and he said: “Congratulations, Cassidy.”

She turned to the crowd and before she knew it she said: “Y'all are wild, to be votin' for me,” but she was grinning all the same. When someone offered her another mug of hard cider she took it, despite it being her seventh of the night.

That brought her to the next day, which started fine, like any other day since she'd moved into the elder’s mansion. She got up, checked down the hallway and in the way-too-many rooms for errant gerblins. She went down to the general store again but it was coming along nicely and there was nothing for her to do, which was roughly the point where she started worrying.

What did it mean, to be Refuge’s mayor? If the job meant looking after the town, keeping tracks of the projects and the people and making sure no one took a pickaxe to the peace they'd built under their bubble then, well, she'd been doing that for years. But that wasn't all there was to being a mayor, not now the bubble had gone and Refuge was dropped back into the world. Being a mayor meant being an ambassador and Cassidy had never been good at politics. She didn't like strangers much, she wasn't subtle or edumacated. 

Cassidy went back home to pick up her head lamp and pickaxe and went on a trip to the old mine.

That evening, she went to the Davy Lamp and sulked in a corner until Ren came to stand next to her.

“You're the last one in, mayor,” Ren said, the corners of her eyes all crinkled up with a smile. She was pretty, Cassidy’d always thought so. Most elves were pretty, but Ren? Ren was kind. She wasn’t stingy with the booze either, which sure as hell made a difference. “One last round before I close?”

“Why'd they all vote me in?” said Cassidy. “I didn't even put myself up for candidate.”

Ren cocked her head, sat on the bar still next to Cassidy. “You've been looking after the town,” she said, “You've been doing a good job.”

“D’you know I got 87 votes?” said Cassidy. She gestured around her empty mug. “We only got a hundred and twelve people of votin’ age. What are they all thinkin’?”

“There's the fact that you know exactly how many people we got,” said Ren.

“That don't make me good at this job, I don't even know what they all expect of me. I'm supposed to be a miner, what sorta person is gonna vote for that for mayor?”

“I did,” Ren said.

“Oh,” Cassidy said.

“You'll be fine,” said Ren and she pulled Cassidy in, one reassuring hand on her shoulder. Cassidy nestled in, unabashedly settling herself against Ren’s shoulder, her paisley dress that smelled a little bit of spilled cider and wood shavings and a lot like Ren. It was her second favourite smell, right after sulphur and ruck dust and fresh, ice cold water.

Cassidy didn't tell anyone else about her worries. She kept on doing what she was doing, figuring it had worked well enough so far. There wasn't much in Refuge nowadays that couldn't be fixed by some elbow grease and a little bossing people around.

She trusted it’d all work out, and it did until Molly returned from her scouting mission and she had some folks with her from Two Swords, down the Woven Gulch. They were all dressed up fancy like and were talking about trade and supplies and going rates and “friendly relationships between townships”. Cassidy overheard, when they had a chat with Roswell. They were taken aback by the little crimson songbird with a voice, but not so much they couldn't talk politics right there in the main road. That, if you asked Cassidy, was pretty rude. 

There were two of them; wearing dyed linen dusted with red earth, one of them wielding a fancy sunbrella, and they wanted to talk to the mayor.

“Gerblins,” Cassidy muttered and suppressed the urge to turn and dig up a few stashed cherry bombs.

She was mayor now. Refuge had trusted her enough to put her where she was and while that was surely dumber than a mine without supports she would do her darndest to keep it all upright regardless.

She wiped her hands on her overalls, tucked a strand of hair back into her braid and stepped around the corner with a grin she was sure bordered a bit too close on manic. “Hello there, y'all.”

“Uhm,” the one with the sunbrella said. “Yes, hello?” She had a broad, flat accent that made her confusion sound snobby. Cassidy didn't like it.

“Couldn't help but overhear y'all are lookin’ for the mayor,” she said.

The other one perked up. “That's right, could you fetch him for me?”

Cassidy made a face, nose wrinkling and went: “Be right hard for me to do, seein’ as that's me.”

“Oh gods, sorry,” said the first one. “It's just, you're not what we expected.” She held out a hand. “I'm Elspeth.”

Cassidy smiled, and shook their hands, and forgot their names instantly, mentally dubbing them Sunbrella and Suitcase.

“Roswell,” she said, and Roswell fluttered down on her shoulder for a better vantage point. “Do me a favour and see these folks to the mansion? Got myself a little errand to see to first.”

“Certainly, mayor,” said Roswell and Cassidy could swear there was a to be of amusement in their voice. It was so hard to tell, with a bird.

Cassidy waved and turned into the alley between the Davy Lamp and Brogden’s house, quickening her step as soon as she was sure she was out of sight. 

Not what they expected.

She came around the back of the bar, jimmied the back door. It was unlocked, lucky for her.

Cassidy let herself in the back and called out: “Ren?” 

A door was open to the left, under the staircase leading upstairs, and Cassidy heard a clanking noise like something heavy being set down on a stone floor.

Cassidy shuffled her feet, listened to the footsteps until Ren had come up from the basement, head peeking out from the door curiously, her white hair clipped back, out of her eyes. 

“Hey there, Cassie,” she went.

“Ren, what does a mayor wear?” 

“I'm sorry?” she said. She was wearing her apron, with simple leggings underneath instead of her usual skirts. She wiped her hands clean of dust as she spoke, leaving red smudges on the apron. “Is this a hypothetical question, or is there a reason you're asking me?”

“Whichever option means you give me some practical advice,” Cassidy said. “There's some folks out there what want to talk to the mayor.” She leaned in. “They from out of town.”

“Just go talk to them,” said Ren. “They won't care what you're wearing.” She reached out, caught Cassidy’s sleeve between her fingers and pulled her along, down the corridor and away from the bar’s public spaces.

“They do though.” Cassidy looked down, to where Ren’s black fingers were curled around her red and white plaid. “Went to say hello and they done told me I weren't what they was expecting.”

Ren smiled. “I think that's just because no one's expecting you.”

“Now, what's that supposed to mean?”

Ren tugged her into her little sunlit back parlour, flowers next to the sink, and let go of her sleeve. “You're a real character,” she said, corners of her eyes crinkling. The sunlight through the window made her freckles stand out, like tiny flecks of diamond dust in the darkness. “People who haven't met you just aren't prepared. I almost feel bad, they'll never know what hit ‘em.”

“You make me sound like a cave in,” Cassidy muttered. She tugged one braid forward, picked at the split ends. 

The first time she came here, in the back and away from all the bits of the building that made the bar a bar, she'd felt like she was intruding. Like this wasn't something she, or anyone, was meant to see. She was afraid to sit on the chairs, in case she got them dirty. Afraid to drink the tea she was offered, because she might break the cup.

She'd never considered Ren delicate, not since the day she saw her come to Refuge with a suitcase in one hand, a rod in the other and tales of roaming bandits on the road, who were surely roaming no longer.

Then she stepped into the back parlour and felt like everything around her was delicate. Maybe, she figured, this was where Ren kept the soft bits so they wouldn't get all dinged up with daily use.

“Naw, not a cave in,” said Ren. She reached over, batted at Cassidy’s hands before she could start shredding her hair all over the parlour. “I'd say you're more like magic.”

“What,” Cassidy went.

“You're big and startling,” Ren continued, “but also pretty sweet.”

“I think if anyone's like magic, it's you and not me.” Cassidy grinned, all snaggletoothed. “Pretty and with a helluva kick.”

Ren laughed, said: “Okay, fine, that's enough metaphors for one day.”

“So you gotta give me some advice,” she said, continuing like there’d never been an interruption: “I can't be lettin’ everyone down by not looking the part.”

“What you got is fine,” said Ren. 

“What I got is muddy overalls, I want something that sets me apart.” Cassidy paused and added, quickly: “Not that I think I’m different than you, just somethin’ to tell them outsiders what’s what.”

“So you want something fancy,” Ren said.

“I want a sheriff badge,” Cassidy said, “only not a sheriff, ‘cause of me not bein’ a sheriff.”

“You want a badge.”

“Somethin’ that says: back off, I’m big stuff.”

“A warning sign?”

“You know, like them armoured doodads the police wear down in Amberforge.”

“A uniform!”

Cassidy shifted her chair along the table, came to a stop next to Ren. “A uniform,” she went. “A mayor uniform.”

“Mayors don’t generally wear a uniform, Cassie.”

“How do folks recognise them, then?” Cassidy signed, leaned a shoulder against Ren. The light was coming in low through the parlour windows, all gold and red. Only a few more minutes and the high walls of the gulch would cut off direct light, casting Refuge into the usual evening half-light. Ren would open the bar, Cassidy would be expected to go home and have dinner with her guests. Probably talk politics, too. The only thing Cassidy knew about politics was that it didn’t happen much in Refuge.

“I guess they mostly wear fancy things,” Ren said. “Mayors tend to be rich. Big hats, sometimes, gold necklaces.”

“We ain’t got a lot of gold,” said Cassidy. 

“We could find you a hat, if you like.”

Cassidy considered this. “What kind of hat?”

“A big top hat,” Ren said. “Black, with a couple diamonds on it.”

“We do got diamonds,” Cassidy said. “Though not as much since the mine dried up. I been thinkin’ about that, you know. I been goin’ down into the old shaft sometimes, pickin’ at the seams. Refuge’d be better off if we had a, an industry.”

“This is why you’re a good mayor,” said Ren. Cassidy looked over, and she was smiling, purple eyes shining in the last sunlight. “You’re always thinking about the town. You don’t need a hat.”

“I want a hat,” Cassidy said earnestly and Ren giggled. After a moment, Cassidy added: “You know, I ain’t told anyone else. About how this mayor stuff gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

Ren smiled. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

“It’s not a secret.” There was a bird outside, soaring on the thermals. She could just see it, out in the ravine. Things were simpler for that bird. Not easier, maybe, but simpler. It could fly up there and see it all, and when it spied out even the faintest trace of a little prairie dog or a lizard it knew exactly what to do. “It’s a confession,” she said. “‘Cause I trust you.”

Ren reached over, squeezed her arm. They watched the light angle away, split from general daylight into two beams as it hit Halberd Rock on the edge of the canyon, and then into many small slivers as the sun sank lower.

“I still want a hat, though,” said Cassidy.

She arrived to the manor that evening wearing a black top hat, a little dusty from Ren’s attic but whole. 

The mine was a constant worry at the back of Cassidy’s head. Not because it was a problem, as such. No one really went down there these days, and there was enough to be done in town to keep folks busy. 

The town was fine. It was small, but it was fine. They had a few diamonds, they grew most of their own food. The town was fine - for now. 

Refuge wasn’t on a trading route, or by a river, or near an important landmark. People had moved here because of the mine. Hell, Cassidy had moved here because of the mine. After, people had stuck around. First just for the hell of it, and then because there was a great damn bubble keeping them all in.

It wasn’t going to last.

Cassidy loved Refuge, and she didn’t intend ever to live anywhere else. It it came to it, she was going to be the last citizen of Refuge, watching the town dry up around her as the sun set above the ravine, as the wind howled around the empty mine.

She still went down there, and scoured the old corridors. Sometimes she took her lamp and picked at the walls, examining rock strata and sediment. Sometimes she grabbed her pickaxe and just wailed at the walls, methodically, with no goal. She figured it was restlessness, stress relief. It was soothing. She was almost surprised when she ran a hand, still wet from the water she’d spilled from her canteen earlier, through the rocks on the ground and saw something glitter.

Quartz, she thought at first. She was some distance from the original vein now, down an old exploratory tunnel that had never gone anywhere. She liked coming down here because it was small and cozy and not nearly big enough to structurally endanger anything above. There wasn't really anything above it, in fact. 

It took her half an hour to find Ren.

“It’s so low in here,” she said, skirts tied up and out of the way, one hand trailing over her head along the ceiling of the corridor.

“Careful now, don’t hit your head,” Cassidy said. 

“You know I’m not a mining expert, right?”

“I just want you to look at it,” said Cassidy and looked over her shoulder, grinned. “You don’t need to identify anything, I just want you to see.”

“Okay?” Ren went, and followed along the uneven floor.

There was a little chamber of sorts at the end of the tunnel, where they’d stopped digging years and years before. That was where Cassidy had started hacking at the wall, to the right and at a slight angle. There was a little alcove there, now, and the floor was covered in debris.

Cassidy scuffed a boot through the rubble. It would have to be brought up, all of it, but that could wait until later. She pointed at the alcove, handed Ren the lantern.

“Go have a look,” she said.

Ren stepped forward, raised the lantern. 

She stood for a moment, moved the light closer.

“Oh,” she said, and touched her fingers against the wall. It glittered at her, in the lantern light. Not as much as it would, after they’d dug it out and brought it up and gave it a good cut and polish, but even a rough diamond will glitter if you hold a lantern right up against it.

Cassidy grinned, and when Ren turned back she was grinning too. 

“I reckon that’s enough to get you a real fancy hat,” Ren said and Cassidy stepped up, reached out to take the lantern. Ren’s fingers tangled with hers and they were warm, her breath close and loud in the little tunnel. 

Now or never, Cassidy thought. That’s how it goes, right? You have drinks together, there’s some inbetween stuff, and then you give the girl diamonds.

She squeezed her fingers tight around Ren’s, and kissed her. Up close, her face went all out of focus, but Cassidy reckoned she could still see the little freckles, white and sparkling.

She jostled the lantern, stepping closer, and then Ren’s skirts came loose when she tried to catch it, heavy fabric slapping the thing out of Cassidy’s hand. There was a crunch and the light flickered and died. The tunnel felt smaller still, the air hot with Ren’s breath close, on her face.

Cassidy blinked, trying to get the afterimages of the flame to fade. She blinked again, and realised she wasn’t seeing an afterimage at all.

“Oops,” Cassidy said, looking into Ren’s eyes, glowing faintly purple.

“Good thing I can see in the dark,” said Ren, and kissed Cassidy again.

Refuge’s informal council met again at the Davy Lamp that night. Paloma had brought extra scones, covered with icing and raspberries, and Cassidy wondered what the special occasion was.

She was antsy, barely listening to Redmond give a quick report on the farm and its orchards, her attention pulled three ways all at once. Ren had taken the seat next to her, which wasn't at all unusual except for the way she would reach over whenever she get up, touch her fingers briefly to Cassidy’s shoulder. They were well into their second round, and Cassidy could see Ren gearing up to fetch refills.

“Those folks we had over from Two Swords the other day,” Roswell was saying. “Did anything ever come of it?”

“They uh,” Cassidy went, briefly losing her words when Ren stood, gave her shoulder a little squeeze. “They went back home, said they’d spread the word and such. Didn’t much like them, they were rude.”

“We don’t need to like them,” Redmond said, scribbling into his notebook. “We just need to be polite.”

“I been plenty polite,” Cassidy said and found herself looking down at a lavishly decorated scone, Paloma’s little hand nudging it towards her. The raspberries were arranged in a heart shape, and Paloma was grinning something wicked.

“I’m sure we’ll hear from them soon,” said Ren, and doled out fresh mugs. When she sat, she crossed her legs, one foot resting neatly against Cassidy’s knee.

Paloma stifled a little giggle, and it seemed even Redmond caught it this time because he said, mildly: “Something you wanted to tell us?”

“Sure,” said Cassidy. She pulled a small leather satchel from her belt and tossed the raw diamond onto the table. It was the first she’d found in the new vein, an off-centre square, almost the size of her fingernail. “We’re reopenin’ Refuge’s mine.”

The room was quiet for a moment, and then Redmond laughed, picked up the little stone. “I’m guessing you saw this coming as well?” he asked, looking sideways at Paloma.

She shrugged. “Why do you think I voted for Cassidy?”

“I still hold that’s the weirdest darn decision this town has made,” Cassidy said.

“I don’t know,” said Roswell, “it seems to be working for us. How much do you reckon is down there?”

They didn’t go home that night until after they’d made a hefty dent into Ren’s supplies. After all, they figured, now that the bubble was down there was surely some new stock coming any day now and it’d be best to make the space now. 

Some weeks after that, Cassidy finally commandeered the manor’s master bedroom. She’d lived there for years, but it had always felt odd, to be taking the fancy bedroom front and center. It was the elder’s manor, sure, and she doubted anyone would’ve complained if she’d taken the big room the same day she moved in, but she could never quite convince herself she was allowed. 

Now it was fine, so she reasoned, it was only right what with her being the mayor. Also, the bed was much bigger. Fit two people with room to spare.

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO MY LITTLE GERBLIN FRIENDS thank you for reading and please remember that comments make me very happy! Do let me know if you want a little more of Cassidy and Ren just hanging out while Paloma does some smug baking.


End file.
